


what doesn't kill me makes me wish i was dead

by CurriedSugar



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Isaac Beamer Versus the Supernatural (Undertale), Disordered Eating, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Nothing, absolutely nothing uwu, fuck xavier man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26224195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurriedSugar/pseuds/CurriedSugar
Summary: what doesn't kill youmakes you wish you were deadgot a hole in my soul, growing deeper and deeperand I can't takeone more moment of this silencethe loneliness is haunting meand this weight of the world's getting harder to hold up-Drowned, by Bring Me the Horizon
Relationships: Chris/Nevin, it's more platonic than anything really but who cares
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	what doesn't kill me makes me wish i was dead

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Isaac Beamer Versus the Supernatural](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8470636) by [onebizarrekai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebizarrekai/pseuds/onebizarrekai). 



> Now, normally I don't write this much angst for Chris, since Drew is my favorite ~~angst victim~~ character, but I got inspired to write some Chris angst yesterday, so I wrote this beauty for y'all!
> 
> Sorry I haven't been posting as much on here lately, I've been kinda stressed out and overwhelmed due to current events. I'm perfectly fine, but I've been vibing on Discord for a while, haha.
> 
> Just a side note, the disordered eating and child abuse tags were added as a precaution.

Chris woke up feeling like rotten garbage. 

It was the third time this week. And it was only Wednesday, for Christ’s sake. He sat up, staring at the wall, blinking tiredly. Chris hadn’t slept well. Not that he had trouble falling asleep, or he hadn’t gotten enough sleep; in fact, he had gone to bed pretty early, having skipped dinner. It was more of the fact that he hadn’t gotten enough rest.

He sighed, getting out of bed and throwing on some clothes. Some coffee should wake him up.

He headed downstairs, hearing his stomach growl. He hadn’t eaten that much in the last twenty-four hours. A piece of toast and several cups of coffee at breakfast, a few bites of a turkey sandwich and a bag of overly salted potato chips that he’d bought at the vending machine by the cafeteria at lunch, and several cans of soda that he’d drank throughout the afternoon.

Nevin had watched him like a hawk at lunch yesterday, the look on his face a mixture of concern and worry. Of course, with Nevin being Nevin, he’d pulled Chris aside the moment he had the chance, which happened to be minutes before the bell was due to ring, signaling the end of lunch period.

“Chris, do you need to talk?” Nevin had asked, staring into Chris’ gray eyes, which were glazed over, and had huge bags under them. The emo was gripping onto Chris’ arm tightly, so he couldn’t pull away and make a run for it.

“No, I’m fine, Nevin,” Chris had lied, grabbing Nevin’s hand and trying to pull it away. “Can you let go, please? I gotta get to class.”

His grip grew tighter, Nevin’s eyes starting to glow a bright cyan. “Chris, don’t lie to me. You barely ate anything at all, and you look like you haven’t slept in weeks. Hell, I’m not even reading your emotions right now and I can tell something’s up.”

“It’s nothing, really… I just didn’t sleep well last night. I’m just tired, ‘s all.”

Nevin couldn’t protest, because the bell rang, and he was forced to let Chris go. Though Chris did understand why Nevin was concerned.

Chris sighed softly, tugging the sleeve of his jacket up a bit, but not too much. He could feel the tears prick at his eyes, a few stray ones falling into his coffee cup as he stared at the cuts on his pale arm.

There were lots of them, the thin, red cuts littered down his arm in rows. Some were old, but the areas around quite a lot of the wounds were awfully recent, and still red and sore. There were actually a few that Chris had made yesterday, after the huge fight that he had had with Xavier last night.

He took a huge gulp from his coffee, slamming the mug down on the table with enough force to break it into pieces. His stomach growled again, a strong pang of hunger seeming to stab through Chris’ body.

Maybe he should have some Pop-Tarts.

* * *

Xavier had yelled at him. Again. Chris hadn’t even done anything remotely wrong, his dad was just yelling at him for no good reason other than to yell at him.

Ah, the joys of having a borderline abusive father.

Chris decided to walk to school alone that day, instead of heading to the Jovel residence first, like he would normally do in the mornings so he could walk to school with the twins. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, and besides, he didn’t want to explain to Drew and Nevin why he was crying. 

He spotted an empty can of some sort of cola on the sidewalk, and kicked it every now and then as he walked, staring down at the ground with a glazed look in his eyes. As he came to the final crosswalk before he reached the school, he spotted a dead squirrel in the road, having been run over by a car, the carcass flattened. 

Chris couldn’t help but stare at the squirrel, hardly even blinking as he took it all in, silent. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at a dead rodent for so long, and that he should get to school before he was late, but for some strange reason, he found that he couldn’t look away. But why?

**_God, I wish that were me._ **

Chris squeezed his eyes shut, crossing the road quickly and running into school at top speed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. But it was too late, the thoughts were shooting through his head like bullets.

**_I want to jump in front of a passing car and have it run me over._ **

**_No, scratch that. I want to run headfirst into a busy street and get flattened into a human pancake._ **

**_I could do it. I should do it. Who’s stopping me? What’s stopping me?_ **

Chris opened his eyes again, which were blurry with tears. He tried blinking them away, quickly diving into the nearest janitor’s closet and shutting the door, his breath shaking slightly, tears streaming down his face. His school bag dropped to the floor, a small razor blade falling out of it.

Chris didn’t use his sword to cut himself. It was too risky, since he usually cut himself at home. Besides, he wasn’t 100% sure what would happen to his body if he used a probably 1,000 degree hot glowing sword to hurt himself, and he didn’t want to find out, in case he ended up in the hospital as a result. So he usually used a knife that he had stolen from the kitchen, or when necessary, a razor blade.

Chris picked it up, the metal feeling cool and soothing against his hand. He didn’t usually take the razor blade to school, so he must’ve put it into his bag by accident. He could see a bit of his reflection in the blade; his watery, gray eyes and his tearstained face stared back at him. He looked weak. Useless.

That’s when a thought sparked in his head. Well, actually, more of an idea.

He shouldn’t do this. Not now, and not here, of all places.

But he couldn’t ignore the urge to do it.

Chris sat down on the floor of the closet, on his knees. He shrugged his jacket off, throwing it to the side, so it wouldn’t be in the way. He takes a deep breath, holding the razor in his hand tightly, looking at his other arm.

It was just him. Alone. Nobody but him and the razor.

He gently ran the razor blade over the skin of his arm. He wasn’t pressing down hard enough to cut, not yet, but it was enough for him to feel the sharpness of the razor against his skin. It was comforting, in a way. It made him feel secure, safe, two things that Xavier never provided for him.

After a while of running the sharp object across his skin, Chris pushed it deep into the skin and made a short, deep cut, right near his wrist. Crimson red blood seeped up from the wound, trickling down his arm. The pain felt good, so good. He could feel the thoughts of killing himself fading away already. 

He made more cuts, each one going a little bit more deeper, each one getting a bit longer. The edge of the razor was coated in blood, and drops of said blood were on the floor. Chris lost track of the time, the world around him seeming to fade away. 

It was just him and the razor and the cuts and the blood and the pain oh god how good the pain felt as it washed all the bad thoughts away even if it was just for the moment Chris didn’t care right now he just-

Suddenly he was forcefully snapped out of his painful but not really painful trance as someone grabbed the hand that had been holding the razor blade. The monochromatic teen tried to pull away, still gripping onto the razor.

“Let  _ go  _ of it, Chris!”

Chris blinked, glancing up at the source of the voice, and paling. It was Nevin.  _ Nevin. _

His breath caught in his throat, and his arm went limp in the emo’s grasp. Nevin seized the chance, grabbing the razor blade and throwing it away, across the room. It slid across the floor, hitting the wall and making a small  _ clink  _ as it did.

Chris glanced across the room where the razor was, then slowly back at Nevin. His eyes were a bright cyan, and there was a furious glare in them, the same glare that he had in his eyes when he was beating Edward up. 

“N-Nevin, I-”

“What the actual  **_hell,_ ** Chris?!” Nevin screamed, his eyes glowing brighter. Chris flinched, at both the volume of Nevin’s voice, and the fact that he was yelling at him. Nevin  _ never  _ yelled at him like this. Never.

Chris didn’t hear what Nevin was saying after that. He just couldn’t listen. It was as if his brain was forcing him to tune Nevin out. Of all people to be the first one to find out that he was hurting himself, why did it have to be Nevin? Why couldn’t it have been Drew, or hell, even Charlie? He wouldn’t even mind if Xavier had found out, even if it meant all sorts of verbal abuse would get hurled at him.

But it  _ had  _ to be Nevin who had found out first. And he was yelling at him because of it.

**_Go get the razor. Slit your wrists. Who cares if Nevin’s right there? You know you want to do it, so do it!_ **

**_Do it! Kill yourself!_ **

**_Just end it all already!_ **

**_Go and slit your fucking throat, you little bitch!_ **

Before Chris knew it, tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was choking on his own sobs, shaking horribly. He couldn’t stop himself; the tears just kept flowing nonstop. It was almost as if there was no end to them.

“Oh shit...Chris, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh-”

“I’m sorry,” Chris mumbled, voice slurring slightly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He couldn’t stop himself from repeating the words “I’m sorry” over and over and over again, like he was programmed to do it. 

He felt Nevin’s arms wrap around him, holding him tightly. Chris stopped, confused, yet somehow feeling himself calm down.

“Don’t apologize, Chris,” Nevin said softly. “I’m not mad at you. I was just worried.”

“Worried…?” Chris’ question came out as more of a mumble, which was so quiet, it was a surprise anyone heard it. “About...me?

“Of course about you, you dumbass. I don’t know why you’re… hurting yourself, but I’ll help you try to stop.”

Chris said nothing, instead burying his head in Nevin’s jacket, holding back tears.

“Cry it out, Chris. It’s okay if you want to cry.” Nevin rubbed Chris’ back in slow circles, in an attempt to calm the older boy. “I know things seem bad now, but it’ll get better. I promise.”


End file.
